Major Gholam Khan didn’t give much thought to who he was ordered to kill. He’d done the deed many times before, and he thought tonight’s assignment would be one of his easier tasks. Now he was in a highly secret and secure Iranian biological weapons lab. As a member of the elite Quds Force within Iran’s Army of the Guardians of the Islamic Revolution—the Revolutionary Guard—Major Khan moved about the country with ease. It was widely known, if not spoken about in public, that the Quds’ mission was to export Iran’s vision of Islam abroad by financing, training, equipping, and organizing foreign revolutionary units. Moreover, the Quds reported directly to the Supreme Leader of Iran, the Ayatollah himself. That made Major Khan all but untouchable, at least in his country. After almost being captured in Iraq several years ago, however, Major Khan had been ordered home. Greeted as a hero, he nonetheless felt cheated. He’d groomed several Shiite countersniper teams in Iraq, many of whom were killed after he left.
Major Khan opened the door to a classroom within the facility and stepped in. A podium with a chair on either side of it stood at the front of the classroom. Behind the podium and chairs a large Iranian flag covered the whiteboard. In front of the podium were tables and chairs for fifty people. Major Khan had arrived early. It was the sniper in him. To his surprise he saw he wasn’t the first. Scientists, assistants, and workers were already filling the seats. It occurred to him that their early arrival had more to do with fear of being late. A few, perhaps, were actually eager to see the star of the show, General Behrouz Tehrani, one of Iran’s greatest leaders from the Iran-Iraq War and a celebrated hero. Major Khan took a seat next to the podium and waited for the general’s arrival.
Captain Rapviz Shokoufandeh entered the room. Khan and Rapviz had been friends for years, a rare instance of comradeship for Khan. Rapviz nodded at Khan and walked to stand behind the podium. He coughed and then spoke into the microphone: “When General Tehrani enters the room, please stand until he says to be seated.”
The crowd stirred.
Five minutes later, General Tehrani entered, putting his black cell phone in his pocket as he did so. It was a subtle but powerful gesture. He was a busy man, an important man. He wore shiny black boots, an olive drab uniform, and four golden stars on his epaulettes. He was a thin man with a white beard that gave him a distinguished appearance.
The crowd stood.
His voice roared, “Take seats.”
The scientists and others sat down. Some watched him nervously. Others watched him with anticipation.
General Tehrani stood behind the podium studying them for a moment.
The audience waited for him to speak.
“People, the so-called Arab Spring in Iran is bullshit,” General Tehrani began. Those who’d never heard him unedited were clearly shocked by his speaking style, especially the Arab-Iranian scientist sitting near the front. “We are not Arabs. We are Iranians. True Iranians love their Ayatollah and their government. True Iranians love their families. True Iranians love themselves. We don’t give a damn about any Arab Spring in Iran. It isn’t going to happen. Ever. You are here because you worked harder than everyone else and because you’re smarter than everyone else. True Iranians are hard workers and intelligent.” He paused and scanned the audience.
“Now I am told,” he continued, “that we’re maintaining production levels of MBD21. I don’t want to maintain shit. Maintaining is what Americans do. We’re going to increase production until we have enough bacterium to obliterate half the American population.”
Some in the crowd let out their enthusiasm: “Yes!”
“We are true Iranians, and true Iranians don’t wait for Americans to kill Iranian families. True Iranians protect their families by killing Americans first. You are the brightest people with the best equipment in the world. We can’t fail now. We’ve come too far. We must never give up. We must never let the infidels win. I know it hasn’t been easy, but don’t let this moment fall into mediocrity. We must work harder than ever. Show the infidels what we can do. Become mean, insanely aggressive. Cut the infidels’ hearts out. We must want this more than life itself. This moment will be the greatest for Iran. We must defend our families and country. In the same way I use bullets and bombs, you use science. Will you fight for your families and country with me?”
The scientists applauded: “Yes!” The Arab-Iranian scientist’s response was weaker than that of the others. In contrast, the scientist with a crooked nose who sat next to him applauded louder than everyone else.
“Will you fight for your families?”
“Yes!” the crowd cheered. The Arab-Iranian scientist continued to respond weakly. Major Khan recognized him as a brilliant scientist who placed little value on politics and speeches.
“Your honor?”
“Yes!”
“That’s the spirit. Let’s do this! Maybe Iran will fall into mediocrity someday. But not today.”
Major Khan stood and then walked over to the weakly responding scientist. All of the scientists were smart, but not all were wise. From beneath his jacket, Major Khan swung out his shoulder holster containing a sound-suppressed MPT-9KPDW, the Iranian copy of the German MP5K-PDW short submachine gun. The weapon remained attached to his shoulder holster and the folding stock remained folded, allowing him to fire quickly with the submachine gun still in its holster.
The Arab-Iranian scientist leaned back in his chair and put his hands out in front of his face. “No! Please, no!”
The crowd became silent.
Major Khan stood in front of the scientist, taking an angle that wouldn’t injure others. Not that Major Khan cared about their lives—he cared only about the mission, and this mission needed scientists. Major Khan pivoted, and pointed his gun at the scientist with the crooked nose, the one who had applauded louder than the others. He waited for the man’s eyes to register what was happening and then squeezed the trigger, firing a short burst. A single shot to the head would have sufficed, but the general had wanted something loud and exceptionally violent.
General Tehrani cleared his voice and patiently waited for the assembled scientists to direct their attention back to him. “Applauding loudly when I’m around is one thing, but slackening effort when I’m not around is another. It sets a bad example—it’s bad for morale.”
One of the scientists began applauding loudly. No one followed his example—they were too much in shock to move.